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"You know, you don't have to do this."
Evbo scoffs, "Yeah, I know. But I want to." To which EMF can only respond with a sigh, turning their gaze back to the horizon line in front of them.
The sun shone high and bright above God and champion, diffusing its rays onto the dirt paths and parkour highways underneath, bathing the distant specks of people who jumped across them in a soft light.
There were no such roads to obscure the sunlight all the way up on the Champion Layer, and EMF takes in the way the warmth pricks their face, the burn negligible compared to the comfort of it. They rub their palms on the floor next to them absentmindedly, with the same pace Evbo was currently tracing his own hands through their feathers. They soak in the warmth of both touches.
This really was the perfect time to relax together. The quartz was warm now, but it wouldn’t be for long.
All those blocks of it that make up the highest layer of civilization cycled together with the sun and moon.
At night, the quartz is harsh and biting, and the diamond of the throne even more so. Even merely brushing the stone sends shivers down the spine of someone who forgot to cover up... Or so EMF has been told by Evbo.
Their natural body temperature sits well below the colder end of the spectrum, thanks to the thin layer of void covering their skin; much to Evbo’s chagrin whenever they tap their ice-cold fingers against his neck to hear him squeal.
During the day, the quartz is pleasant to the touch, for the most part.
On days where the sun is particularly blinding, both EMF and Evbo avoid the throne, the former even going so far as to spend their time on the lower levels to avoid the worst of it.
While they’ve seen Evbo lounge comfortably in the chair that belonged to him once, and currently doesn’t, he always throws it quite the sour look when it’s scaldingly hot. They could empathize with that.
Sometimes, when the stars float far in the sky above EMF, laying with their wings lazily spread out across the floor, it feels as if the layer was breathing alongside them.
Being up here was idyllic, everything they could have ever dreamed of and more when they first spawned on the Noob Level.
Worrying about their citizens and making multi-step plans to implement new rules to civilization wasn’t included in that dream—but being able to do whatever they wanted might have been.
They were The Champion now, for better or worse.
It still lingered in their mind that they might not even be worthy of this title.
After all, being gifted a title this prestigious by mere coincidence, just because they happened to believe in the man who ascended to Godhood, didn’t equate to any kind of skill. Anybody could believe, if they were pious enough to.
If proximity was enough to earn someone the title of champion, Seawatt would have claimed his spot long before EMF even dreamed about reaching for it.
Comparing themselves to Seawatt made them feel sick– but one shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.
Evbo reassured them many, many times over that they were the right person for the job, and they had been working tirelessly every cycle to be worthy of that praise from Him.
It wasn’t like they had any counter-evidence. Everyone in parkour civilization seemed to be happy for the most part, if not thriving, thanks to their efforts.
So, EMF thinks, they must be doing something right.
Their legs hang idly off the edge, swinging back and forth in a gentle rhythm as their thoughts dance around their head.
The peace doesn’t last long as a sharp pang shoots up their back, their armoured ankle slamming against the wall of the temple in response with an, “OW!” Whipping their body around, smacking Evbo square in the face with their tail as they do so.
“Oops-” “I told you, the dry ones!” EMF bristles, their wings tucked defensively against their back, hot-white eyes narrowed into a glare. Evbo shrinks a bit under their gaze, his own wings—barely even 1/4th the size of theirs—sadly drooping behind him.
“I’m sorry! It looked ready...” The blonde looks up at them with a pout, those pleading emerald eyes deflating all the anger within them, the urge to scold him evaporated. “...Can I try again?”
Their tail lashes out one more time before they relax their shoulders, shuffling around to expose their vulnerable back to him again. The feathers lining their flight muscles vibrate lightly as they stretch to their full wingspan, flapping twice to get comfortable.
EMF knew Evbo would never hurt them purposefully. After everything the two of them had experienced together, they trusted him with their life. To let him near their wings was barely a show of trust at all.
They hadn’t even hesitated to say yes when he asked.
His voice, lower than a whisper, arms tucked firmly behind his back and feet shuffling around nervously. His eyes to the ground as he asked to preen them, like they were his god, and not the other way around. How could they say no to Him?
But even their love for him could not stop their innate reflex to retaliate when hurt, as much as they regretted it.
They let out a sigh.
“Just... Be gentle. It’s painful when you tug at the fresh pins so harshly. If you’re not sure, pinch gently, okay?”
“Mhm. I’ve got it this time, trust!” His hands eagerly return to combing through the dense featherbed that was their wings, deeply absorbed in the task and doing his best to not hurt them again.
They let out a soft hum to encourage him when his hands reach the correct spot.
It isn’t until they can feel a particularly stubborn pin feather being released from its sheath and a full-body shiver races down their spine that they really lean into one sitting behind them, far more eager thrills rising from their throat as he catches them in his arms, coughing away a few feathers.
He laughs as they lay spread out in his arms, the sound as warm as the rays shining down. His hands reach down to wrap around EMF’s shoulders, and he brings his head down to plant a gentle kiss on their forehead.
When he raises his head back up to get a better look at his lover, his spiky blonde head of hair ends up blocking out the light. It casts a shadow over his face, but even in the dark the wide grin that’s settled on his face is obvious.
“Did that hit the spot?”
And if the sun disappeared at that very moment, EMF wasn’t sure if they would notice. Their heart drums in their throat.
How brightly you shine, my God.
“Mmh. It was adequate.” The soft croon from their throat betrays their true feelings, but Evbo can’t resist the challenge.
“What?! I can do way better than adequate, get back up here!”
He gives them a light shove with no ill intent behind it, and EMF chuckles as they oblige, giving him full access to their wings for what might be the 10th time that day, ready to do it all over again as long as he’d like.
They can hear him shuffling behind them, his movement casting a shadow down below, as the clanking of his netherite boots indicate that he was standing up now. They quirk a brow, curious what technique he was trying out now. There’s a huff from him as his hands begin to brush through the more stubborn feathers.
Just getting a better angle, then.
Silence falls comfortably between the two of them as his calloused hands release various other—smaller—pin feathers, and EMF gives him the occasional words of encouragement when they flake off without resistance.
Both of them relish in the touch and sound of each other’s affection for a while, but eventually the task is done, and the moment is over.
Evbo’s hands trace past their coverts one last time, before dusting off his hands for a job well done.
“That should be of all the ones that were ready. You’ve only gooot...” He counts by pointing his fingers, “three or four feathers left before your molt is done... I think.”
EMF frowns.
When they don’t respond, Evbo takes a seat on the ledge to the right of them, tilting his head in their general direction. His fingers find his hoodie strings, twirling them back and forth. “Something wrong?”
“No, it’s just...” Their eyes go distant. They curl their wingspan around themselves. “It’s still... almost strange to have it all back. I can’t help but feel like...”
EMF shakes their head to try and keep the memory away, to think of anything else, but it’s no use.
The first drop has already cracked the damn, the memory flooding in as fresh as the day it happened.
Bile bubbles up in their throat as they recall the feeling of having their wings sliced clean in half. The abject cruelty of the act.
...There were many ways of restraining one’s own flight.
It wasn’t unusual to see parkour masters with their wings tied to their backs, or for clothes to be altered to fit wings under them. Many considered it a show of skill; most seasoned parkourists took pride in using only their own legs, and those who didn’t were looked down upon.
Choosing to discard the use of the wings they were gifted with was the way those on the higher level distinguished themselves, amongst the many other cultural rules EMF had become familiar with over the years. Even the concept of gliding was something most considered beneath them-opting instead to challenge each other with water bucket clutches.
To have that choice forcefully taken from them ripped all the meaning out of these gestures.
It wasn't as if there was a for anyone in the civilization to rank up illegally, no matter how much one tried.
The strong downwind from above and the dizzying distance between layers made trying to fly up annoying at best, and lethal at worst.
This was a conscious decision.
They weren’t just erased, or weakened, or restrained. Any other method of stopping flight would have worked just fine, anything except this.
They had been clipped.
Just like that, from one moment to the next, gone. One jump across a Command Block.
The remnants of what had been their proud wingspan they diligently took care of day in and out, carried with them from birth, lying scattered across the floor of their bedroom like discarded tissues.
There was no dignity. No comfort. Just the cold hard truth and a broom sweeping fallen half-feathers into the void.
Even with fully functional wings, the citizens would have stayed in line. To strip them of their flight had been an act of pure sadism, fitting the direction the civilization was headed under their then champion.
Cruelty for the sake of cruelty.
When they had finally dared to go outside again, the sight of their fellow clipped masters was a depressing one.
And most depressing of all...
“Evbo, let me take a look at your wings. I’ll return the favour.” EMF finds themselves back in the present, Evbo now swinging his legs in the same way they had done earlier. It was an endearing sight.
“Huh?” He perks up at the sound of their voice, “oh yeah, thanks!” And scrambles himself onto his feet to sit down a little further away from the edge—he always moved so swiftly—facing his back to EMF without a shred of hesitation even as he was exposing a part of himself so vulnerable.
It hadn’t meant anything for them to offer themselves up wholly to Him, but it felt wrong for Evbo to do the same.
“It’s always so hard to reach these things, I don’t know how you do it. It looks like I’m growing some fresh colors though! You think it’s another godly perk?”
His wings flutter excitedly as he talks to the air, EMF sitting down behind him on their knees, posture perfectly straight compared to Evbo’s hunched over back and crossed legs.
“Perhaps. There are many things we don’t know about what it means to be a Parkour God.” Their tail swishes back and forth behind them as they talk.
“Sucks they couldn’t leave me a ‘How to Be a Parkour God’ book or anything! He was always so vague, like it killed him to give me a straight answer.”
EMF makes a vague noise of agreement, encouraging him to keep talking as their hands move to assess his growth. Their heart aches. If someone else had taken that power—if He had just been born earlier—if they hadn’t been a coward.
The champion forces themselves back into the present, not wanting to squander this precious moment.
They press a gentle kiss right in between those underdeveloped wings, leaning their cold forehead against Evbo’s back and closing their eyes.
He startles, sentence cut off halfway, “Wh- EMF...?” And tries to twist his body around, their grip preventing him from doing so. Just let them stay here for a moment. Let them appreciate his warmth.
He mumbles a few more words before deciding the situation has left his grip, sagging his weight into them. That's the exact moment they decide they've had enough indulging, letting their lashes flutter open again and focusing on the task ahead.
It broke their heart.
Whenever they glance upon his wings, kept forever small by the malnourishment he suffered, the what-ifs come back to haunt them. If only their spawn circumstances were swapped, perhaps he could have invented far greater forms of parkour, even beyond 360’s. He would have stopped things before they got this dire, and someone actually worthy of the champion title would be sitting here with him instead.
Their God. Their one and only God. His ascension, through merit and willpower that inspired not just them, but others, to follow suit.
‘Admire’ wasn’t adequate enough to describe how they felt about him. It scared them, how deep their want for him went. They would do it all over again, sacrifice themselves for him time and time again. But then, how could anyone not feel this way about Him?
Here, buried between those beautiful wings others had sneered and laughed at, their own personal heaven.
“...-enny for your thoughts?”
EMF blinks their eyes open again, not even realizing they’d relaxed again. How sloppy. They lean back, not allowing themselves to fall into his orbit again. Not now.
They let their fingers brush past the feathers beneath their hands, appreciating the netherite-like luster that covered them now, the sheen unlike anything they had ever seen.
“You’re beautiful.” Is the only thing they can think of to respond with.
Evbo almost chokes, his wings struggling under EMF’s hold as his shoulders hunch upwards even further than they already were. He sputters out some new nonsensical noises before landing on a hushed, “thanks.”
EMF can’t help but look smugly upon the red slowly creeping up his ears, knowing they were the cause.
Ever since his ascension to Godhood, Evbo was no stranger to praise from his subjects; being the Parkour God came with things like that. But the voice of His champion whispering so sweetly in his ear was a rare treat for the both of them.
Another light kiss is pressed against the back of his neck, blonde hair tickling EMF’s nose. They don’t get distracted from their work this time around, slender fingers carefully releasing a feather from its keratin cage.
Evbo lets out an appreciative hum that has the edges of their form quivering. “Mmm... Man, I don't know how I ever went without this.”
“Yes, it’s a relief to see all your feathers in the right places now.” They laugh, which Evbo takes offense to.
“Hey! They weren’t- I groomed them. Sometimes.” He swings his feet again, his thoughts taking him elsewhere. “I just wish I could have shared this view with the others. You would have liked them, EMF.” They croon at the mention of their name. “I had this neighbour... He had the prettiest of white feathers. Real soft, too.”
A moment of silence passes between them, the wind making up for their lack of words. EMF wanted to let Evbo finish his thoughts. He tended to trail off, and then add something on later.
On cue, his lips part again, “I wish I could have seen him with wings like yours.”
“We won’t let this happen again.”
“...Yeah. We won’t.”
The past had left their scars on the both of them—these past few months were a lifetime’s worth of stressors. But at least they ended up in each other’s arms at the end of it all.
EMF clears their throat, done with the task much quicker than Evbo had been. Seemed only natural, considering they had less surface area to cover. They give him a rough pat on the shoulder as a signal, trying not to be drawn in again.
“All done. Your featherbed looks healthy.” They slowly start to get to their feet, but Evbo beats them to it with a loud, “YES!” as he springs into action.
“This stuff takes forever! This is why I never do this.” They’re about to rebuke him, because it hadn’t taken long at all, but his next words steal the breath out of their chest. “You’re the only one I can trust to do this right.”
He smiles at them, then, and they almost fall back onto the quartz. He didn’t even know what he did to them. Perhaps that was the difference between them.
"Alright!" The moment is gone as quickly as it came, Evbo’s voice calling across the expanse as his netherite clanks loudly against the ground underneath them. “Race you to the bottom!”
He becomes a blur of colour as he breaks into a sprint, his feet taking him off the edge of the platform. His water bucket in hand, fragile wings spread out behind him. They didn’t do anything to slow him down at all.
EMF rolls their eyes with a smile as they spread out their own pair with a stretch, gliding down in a much more relaxed manner.
They could already hear him mentally, before the both of them had even made it down to the bottom layer yet, bragging about how much faster he was.
For some reason, they were looking forward to it.